


Too Much, Never Enough

by Raufnir



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, But in a different way, Canon Disabled Character, Complete, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gladio is a big softie, Gladio is besotted, Gladnis, Ignio, M/M, Smut, canon disabled, character in a wheelchair, disabled, disabled Ignis, wheelchair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Basically Gladio just taking care of a reluctant, stubborn, independent Ignis, because Iggy needs to sit back and get some love instead of giving all the gods-damned time. And Gladio’s a huge softie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a long one-shot AU idea I had, where Gladio and Ignis are together. Instead of (**late game spoiler**) Ignis losing his eyesight, I wondered what it’d be like if Ignis had been in the car with the prince during Marilith's attack, but the car rolled and Ignis broke his back and ended up in a wheelchair instead of Noctis. Unlike Noctis in the game, Ignis never recovered properly…
> 
> Gladio is besotted, and Ignis works himself into the ground and drinks too much coffee (at least that's canon compliant!). After an argument about Ignis working too hard, comes the makeup and sex, right? Also briefly featuring Noctis and Prompto. Also, as with my other (but unrelated story) Gladio has a secret and thoroughly nasty temper that he has to keep under control through meditation (self-indulgent thing I have with big guys keeping big tempers under control…).
> 
> Mix of fluff, hurt, comfort, and smut I guess... Set pre-game. Title taken from the ‘songs from final fantasy xv’ by Florence and the Machine.
> 
> Kudos and comments gratefully received, but I realise it might not be everyone's cup of tea, and I'm just happy you stopped by for some Gladnis/Ignio fun.

Gladio frowned. He shouldn’t have been there at this time of day, and the sight of him made anger flare in his gut.

Ignis was working late again.

He'd worked himself ragged for weeks, and only the previous night he had collapsed in his apartment. If Gladio hadn't gone round on a whim to surprise him, he might have lain there all night, sprawled on the floor.

***

With a rush of protectiveness and terror, Gladio's heart had stopped beating when he'd opened the door and found him unconscious on the hardwood, his huge legs taking him to Ignis' side in three enormous bounds.

He had carried Ignis to the bed, the movement of setting him down on the mattress waking him, and the shield had made him drink some water. He'd been all for calling a paramedic, but Ignis had flat-out refused, favouring sleep instead. Gladio had held his exhausted partner until sleep claimed him, and he’d cradled him in his arms all night. When the alarm went off at half past four the following morning, he had groaned and found Ignis already hauling himself out of bed, ready to start another day.

While he watched Ignis disappear round the corner of an upper corridor, heading away from Noct’s room towards the palace library, Gladio’s words from that very morning, the beginning of their biggest argument to date, floated back across his memory, and he began to replay the day up until that point in his mind.

"Ig, you especially have to take care of yourself," he had said as Ignis had nursed his cup of Ebony while dawn was still a long way off.

"Me especially?" the prince's advisor had snapped, and Gladio knew he'd hit below the belt.

The sourness that started to fill the room made Gladio’s gut twist. Knowing that he was the source of that discomfort had cut Gladio to the quick. "I just..." he’d tailed off uncertainly.

"No, _please_ , do finish that..." Ignis had sneered, acidic sarcasm dripping from his tone. When Gladio had blushed furiously and refused to speak, Ignis had surprised him by continuing. "You mean because poor, fragile Ignis never recovered from the car accident, that he's made of glass? That he needs babying every fucking minute of the day?"

Gladio was shocked. Ignis never swore. Ever.

He’d stared down at him and blinked, seeing him properly for the first time in a long time. He didn't really see the compact, manual wheelchair anymore; didn’t see Ignis as ‘disabled’ in any way. It was a slap in the face that he’d become so used to him that he had, to all intents and purposes, basically forgotten it.

The tall man's long legs were eerily still as he sat in the wheelchair, his gloved hands clutching the push rims in a death-grip. The black chair itself was a really swish one, with the best quality sculpted cushion, support, frame and wheels, though it was beautifully understated, just like its owner. It had been a gift from the king for the sacrifice the young boy had made during the demon. King Regis had also unquestioningly supplied the young advisor-in-training’s medical care which he'd needed on a regular basis since then.

"I'm sorry," was all Gladio had been able to hiss in the face of Ignis' chilling stare. "I didn't mean you aren't capable. I just want..." He’d swallowed, scratching the back of his head. "I just hate seeing you so exhausted. Is it too much to ask of your loved one for him not to kill himself in the name of duty?"

Ignis had snorted and pushed towards the front door, car keys rattling as he dropped them into his royal uniform’s top pocket. “And what does a shield do, if not that very thing?”

“I don't do it over and over, bit by bit, every day,” Gladio had roared, his hot temper flaring as he took a step towards Ignis. “I don't work myself to the bone every night after spending all day in royal meetings and tutoring sessions with Lucis’ brightest and best. I don't push everyone who gives a gods-damned fucking shit about me away over and over again just to prove I'm capable of doing my job!”

The door had slammed as Ignis left his apartment without another word.

Gladio had given a dumb bellow and kicked a dining room chair across the room as his fit of blind rage blossomed. Luckily nothing broke or shattered, and he took a deep breath and attempted to still his breathing. His whole body was shaking, and he felt hot and angry as the titan himself. He needed to get a handle on his rage before he did something really stupid. 

Ignis’ apartment had a balcony, which the advisor rarely had time to make use of, but Gladio had slid the door open and stepped out into the freezing Lucian morning. His heartbeat had still been pounding like there were forty behemoths thundering against his eardrums, and he’d lowered himself down onto the stone tiles, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe.

A lot of people were surprised to learn that Gladio meditated. But a lot of people were unaware of the darker side of the shield’s nature. Outside he was all jokes and smiles, joviality and friendliness, but there was an anger that smouldered inside of him, and, with the right combinations of buttons pushed, the vault sprang open and all hell could break loose. Clarus had the Amicitia anger too. The meditation helped keep him on an even keel, but in that moment, with his fears concerning Ignis, and the exchange of words and emotions between the pair of them, he had been in danger of blowing his lid.

The meditation had cooled his raging blood, but it had not quieted his worries. He had been distracted in practice, and had taken a blow from Nyx that he should have easily countered. The Glaive had been as mortified as he was surprised when the hit connected with Gladio’s face, but Gladio shrugged it off, and even Noctis noticed that something was wrong in their afternoon training session.

“Gladio,” he’d yelped indignantly as he spun through the air, bouncing off his teacher’s greatsword and landing heavily on his skinny, seventeen year old arse. “Gods, ease up on me a bit, will you?”

“What? Oh, gods, I’m sorry Noct,” he’d blustered, holding out his hand to right the fallen prince.

“First Ignis, now you,” he had grumbled, not taking the hand, still a little stunned by the fall. “What’s the matter with everyone today?”

“What happened to Ignis? Is he ok?” he’d asked instantly, rounding on Noctis as his fears surged unbidden.

Noctis cringed away a bit. “Gladio,” he’d complained when he had regained composure.

“Fuck, I’m sorry," he had said, stepping backwards a pace or two. "We had a spectacular argument this morning. Well, spectacular by our standards anyway.”

“I didn’t think you guys argued at all,” the prince had said as he scowled and pushed himself upright again, unabashedly rubbing his arse cheek where he'd landed on it.

“We don't. Hence… spectacular.”

The prince had run his hand through his floppy black hair and flexed his shoulders. “What’s it about?”

Gladio had shaken his head. “Iggy will flay me alive if I tell you, highness,” he said, his golden eyes imploring.

Noctis had sighed. “If it affects his duty, and if it means you’re putting me in danger, I need to know.”

“Don’t be a drama-princess,” Gladio joked. “It’s not that serious.”

“Fine, but I want you to tell me before it does get serious, OK?”

“Yes.”

Noctis had nodded. “I’m done for the day,” he’d said. “I’m going to hit the showers. I told Ignis to go home earlier, but I doubt he will have done.”

Gladio nodded.

He had thought about texting Ignis, but had no idea what he’d say that wouldn’t annoy him, or come across as overbearing. Instead he’d busied himself with his meetings and training for the rest of the day, and ate supper as he often did with the other Crownsguard officers and Glaives in the castle barracks.

Returning to bid the prince farewell and also to see if the new Crownsguards on duty outside his chambers were fulfilling their duties satisfactorily, Gladio had made his way along the corridor. It was then that he had seen Ignis’ retreating back moving off towards the library at the junction of corridors ahead.

***

He frowned. Ignis was working late again.

He caught the strength of Ignis’ shoulders as they propelled himself easily along, and the thought of what lay beneath that uniform set his whole body burning the moment he saw it. Perhaps it was all the more alluring to him following their argument that morning, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and bury his face in his neck and kiss him there until Ignis began to moan and unravel in his arms.

Instead, he chose the right hand path and went to Noct’s apartment. He nodded at the Crownsguards, who were pointedly looking down the hallway, almost concealing smirks like they’d just told a dirty joke as teacher walked in. He scowled, ignored them, and pushed open the door to find Noctis flat out on the sofa with Prompto sitting astride his hips. Both were fully clothed, but the rush of excitement in Prompto’s flushed cheeks drew Gladio up short, and the pair on the sofa froze.

“Hey, big guy! Don’t you knock?” the little gunner grinned. Prompto had never been shy or ashamed about his feelings for Noctis.

“I’m sorry, Prompto,” he rumbled. “You’re right, I should have knocked.”

“Come to interrupt, watch, or join in?” the prince asked archly. His face was a poster for ennui, but the slight tension in his voice plainly gave his desire for Prompto away.

He gave a short, fond chuckle. “Not my scene, highness,” he said with a slight bow. “Listen, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I didn’t think Prompto was coming today.”

“Oh, I’m coming,” Prompto smirked, grinding his hips into Noct’s groin and eliciting a heavy moan from the prince.

“And I’m leaving,” Gladio said, turning on his heel. His throat was dry, and all he wanted was Ignis. “I’ll see you both tomorrow for training. And I want you _both_ to be able to walk straight.” And with that he shut the door and breathed the fresher air of the corridor beyond.

He flashed a thunderous glare at the two Crownsguards who were even more deliberately not meeting his eye, and said, “Next time, you warn me, or I’ll feed you to Cor.” They nodded once, looking suitably contrite, and Gladio stalked off down the corridor.

The library was silent as a graveyard when he pushed the door open, and he stood for a moment, just listening. Not a breath of air moved amongst the bookshelves, and he clicked the door shut behind him and stepped further inside. The delicate tapping of a small keyboard reached his ears after a moment or two, and he stumped down the aisle to a distant corner where, sure enough, by the light of a little green-shaded lamp, sat Ignis, typing away. His head suddenly nodded, dipping rapidly, like he was fighting off sleep, and he gave a little shake before resuming his typing. Four empty coffee cups were stacked up in the waste paper basket beside him.

“Iggy?” he called softly, not wanting to disturb the sacred atmosphere of the library. The air shattered anyway, like frozen puddles on a winter morning.

His fingers stopped typing but he didn’t look round, keeping his back and the lean line of his shoulders barred against Gladio.

“Ignis?” Gladio called again, more insistently, catching the way Ignis’ breath caught in his throat this time. “Please, I hate this. I hate it when things aren’t right between us.”

“Well, who’s fault is that?” Ignis snipped.

“It’s both our faults,” he insisted, “But that’s not the point. Can’t we just talk, please?”

Ignis’ shoulders sagged and he put his hands to the push rims of his chair, swivelling free of the little table by the shuttered window. His face was drawn and pale, and there were great shadows beneath his eyes. Those green eyes, so familiar to Gladio by now, lacked their life and lustre, and hardly seemed to take anything in. His slight lazy eye was more prominent in his exhaustion too, adding to his general lack of focus.

"What is there to say, Gladio?" he asked in a defeated tone.

Gladio sighed, letting his hands fall defencelessly to his sides. “I don’t know, Ignis. All I tried to do was look after my partner.”

“I don’t need looking after,” Ignis shot.

“You collapsed!” Gladio countered hotly. “It’s not like I tried to wash you or dress you like a child or an invalid! You were on the floor. You _passed out_ you were so exhausted.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Three hours sleep a night, and more Ebony in a day than I drink water in a week – you’re going to give yourself a heart attack, Iggy.  I just don’t want to see you work yourself into an early grave. I…” he choked suddenly and looked at the floor. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I can’t… I couldn’t live… I don’t…” Words failed the big man as he tried to keep a lid on his panic.

Ignis must have sensed the extent of his distress because he sighed deeply, the tight set of his shoulders softening.

Gladio sniffed and looked up at him, his amber eyes burning. “Iggy…”

“I should take better care of myself," Ignis conceded. "Noctis said the same thing to me this morning.”

“I know,” Gladio admitted, his voice gruff. “He told me he was worried about you after I knocked him on his ass too hard earlier.”

Ignis gave a wry smile, his shoulders beginning to relax a little further. “I’m sure his highness could benefit from being taken down a notch or two every now and again…”

“Couldn’t we all?” Gladio returned, arching an eyebrow, relieved to see a bit of the life coming back to Ignis’ hard face.

Ignis let out a cavernous sigh and turned back to his laptop. He saved the report and shut the lid, sliding the computer into a rucksack and then slinging it deftly over the back of his wheelchair.

“Come on,” Gladio said, holding out his hand to him. It was a gesture that was so familiar to them. He was requesting their shorthand for a kiss. Gladio, standing at six foot five, was ordinarily well out of Ignis’ reach when he was in his wheelchair, so they had devised a code whereby Ignis took Gladio’s hand and ran circles over his scarred knuckles in slow, deliberate lines. Sometime he’d even press soft kisses into his skin, depending on where they were and who was nearby.

First of all, Ignis removed his gloves, leaving Gladio’s hand suspended nervously between them, and then, laying the gloves in his lap, he reached out and took his partner’s strong hand in his elegant fingers. He pulled himself closer to Gladio, pulling himself in so that his toes bumped gently into the taller man’s shins. Bringing the back of Gladio’s hand to his cheek, he laid a single kiss it.

A low rumbling moan began to emit involuntarily from Gladio’s chest, and he gave a great, shuddering sigh as he relished the touch of his partner, his soulmate. He stepped around to the side of Ignis’ wheelchair so that he was standing beside one of the wheels and wrapped his arms around Ignis’ shoulders, drawing him close against his warm body.

Ignis leaned his head against the muscles of Gladio’s solid abdomen and laid his head there, abandoning his hand altogether. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he snaked his arms around Gladio and pulled himself closer still. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” Gladio rumbled. “I’m sorry too. I should have been more understanding.”

“Gladio, I believe it is statistically impossible for any partner to be more understanding of their other half than you are of me. I have never encountered anyone who is more willing to overlook so many faults, put up with so much from someone, than you.”

“' _Put up with_ …' Ignis, I don’t just _tolerate_ you, you know that, don’t you? I… _adore_ you… I can’t breathe when you’re not here. You're... _everything_.” He stroked Ignis’ head just once. “I try so hard not to smother you, or treat you any differently, but…” He ran his hands through Ignis’ grey hair and marvelled how one so young could be so grey already. It was further proof of the stress Ignis was under. He ached to take it all away from him in whatever way he could, but for once he was utterly powerless in the face of Ignis’ iron determination and independence.

“It’s alright, Gladio. You just proved my point. And, much as I am loathe to admit it, I _do_ need treating differently sometimes. I’m in a wheelchair, and at times I forget my own limits. Sometimes I try too hard to keep up when I should bow out.”

“No one works as hard as you do, Ignis, wheelchair or not. Not even the king.” Gladio still held him tightly. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Ignis nodded. “This report will wait till the morning.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gladio smiled, leaning down and kissing Ignis’ forehead

The drive back to Ignis’ apartment was quiet. Gladio had insisted that Ignis take the hand controls off the car and that he let Gladio drive. It was a good thing too, because two minutes out of the castle gates, Ignis’ head lolled and sleep claimed him. Gladio smiled, returning his eyes to the road. Ignis asleep was one of the most beautiful sights imaginable, and he needed to focus on keeping the ride smooth for him. It also wouldn't do to collide with a building in one of Insomnia’s narrow streets because the smitten shield was too busy gazing at the love of his life.

When the car pulled up in the underground garage, Ignis didn’t even stir. Gladio opened Ignis’ door, got his chair out of the car boot, and set it down in front of the passenger door. Ignis’ glasses had slipped endearingly down his nose and he had his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling evenly. He was deeply asleep.

Gladio carefully drew his glasses off his face and tucked them safely in a pocket before shunting the chair back out of the way and stepping in close, leaning across his sleeping body to undo the seatbelt. With a display of tenderness that was often surprising in a man so big, he slid his hand around under Ignis’ arms and his other beneath his still legs. He knew the feeling hadn’t died completely there. The injury to his spinal cord was incomplete, having been crushed in the car crash rather than severed, and Gladio moved gingerly, trying hard not to bump his feet on the car as he levered his long, lean frame out of the passenger seat and turned to set him down gently in his wheelchair.

The backrest of the chair was low, and just before he put him down, Gladio realised that, like this, Ignis would not be able to keep himself upright if he was left unsupported. Instead, Gladio left the wheelchair beside the car, and carried him up to the apartment in his arms. Ignis didn’t stir at all, not even when he was laid down on top of the covers of his bed.

The shield rushed back and fetched the wheelchair and the rest of their stuff from the car, and returned to the apartment to find Ignis exactly as he’d been left.

“You’re going to kill me for doing this,” Gladio muttered, knowing how Ignis hated being carted around like a spare part. He didn’t wash him, but he did change his clothes, carefully sliding his unresponsive legs out of their shoes, socks, and trousers. Taking the rest of his uniform off wasn’t too much trouble since the stiff white shirt unbuttoned down the front and he was able to hold him up with one hand while he slid the material off him. Ignis gave a low groan but didn’t wake as Gladio slid some pyjama bottoms up over his slender legs, hoisting his narrow hips up so that he could shimmy them up to cover him properly.

Ignis was clearly surfacing from sleep the more Gladio did with him, so he decided to leave his torso bare and turned the heating up just in case he got cold. Tucking Ignis up under the duvet, he moved around and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower. When he came back out, wearing only a towel around his hips, he realised he’d left Ignis’ wheelchair in the other room. In case Ignis woke in the night and needed to get up, he fetched it from the hallway.

As he pushed the chair over to his bedside and swivelled it around, he thought, not for the first time, how light and manoeuvrable it was. It meant that Ignis was able to move it like it was an extension of himself, and, in a way, Gladio supposed, it was. And it had been for the past nine years. He didn’t pity Ignis - it was more than his life was worth even to _entertain_ the idea of pitying Ignis - but he did feel sorry for him at times. Before the car accident, before the demon attack had sent the prince’s car rolling, tumbling, over and over down the asphalt, Ignis had been actively involved in sports and had trained regularly with Gladio, even though they had only been ten and eleven years old at the time.

Following the accident, Ignis had refused to partake in any form of physical activity other than his physiotherapy sessions, and it had been a long time before Noctis had been able to convince him to let Gladio devise a workout for him. Thank the gods he had, because that had been how they’d tumbled happily from being friends to lovers. Now, when Ignis worked out, Gladio would stand in front of him and at the peak of each successful chin-up, Gladio would give Ignis a kiss on the lips. Ignis was good at it too, and though his arms weren’t bulky, they were strong from heaving his unresponsive lower body around all day. He was still a crack shot with his throwing daggers too.

Inhaling deeply, Ignis woke and blinked, confused at finding himself in bed and Gladio wearing only a towel and standing beside him. Without his corrective lenses, his lazy left eye, which turned inwards slightly, was more pronounced, and he rubbed it, attempting to shift the fog from his mind. “Gladio?” he asked, his voice gravelly and tired. “How…? What?”

“I'm sorry, Iggy,” Gladio said gently, his long, shaggy hair sending rivulets of water down his shoulders and torso from the shower. “I know you hate it if I do stuff like that for you, and I know that’s where this whole shit-fest started, but I couldn’t bear to wake you. You fell asleep as we turned left out of the palace gates.”

“You carried me?” Ignis asked.

His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it still made Gladio nervous. He hated being carried above all else. “Yeah.” He braced himself for a tirade from an angry, sleepy Ignis, but it never came.

“Thank you,” he said instead. “Today and yesterday have somewhat taken the starch out of me.” He eyed the empty wheelchair beside his bed and ran his tongue around his teeth. “I need to use the bathroom,” he stated.

The chair was positioned perfectly for him to swing across into it from the bed, and as he forced himself upright and the duvet fell away, he frowned slightly when he discovered that he had no shirt on. His shoulders and upper torso were magnificent as chiselled marble, but right around his naval, his belly went soft, marking the place where his spine had been crushed and the feeling fizzled out. He looked down at his body and gave a tiny snort of disgust, so soft that Gladio almost missed it. It angered the big man that the object of his affection, the apple of his eye, was so disgusted by the sight of his own naked body, especially when the rare glimpses of it that Gladio was given sent him into wild frenzy of lust and want.

Ignis was a while in the bathroom, but Gladio sat quietly on the bed, lost in thought while the taps ran. Finally the door opened. Ignis rolled silently back to the bed and reached his arm out for the mattress, lifting his legs off the footplate with his other hand. It was a practised manoeuvre, executed hundreds of times in the past decade, and he rarely messed it up. This time, however, as his arms shook under his weight, Gladio was instinctively on his feet, at his side, hovering. He cursed himself for it, knowing that it grated Ignis to have someone lingering, but when Ignis remained in his wheelchair, balanced right at the front of the solid cushion, Gladio frowned.

“Give me a hand?” Ignis croaked nervously.

“Sure,” he said. His voice was soft and matter of fact, and Gladio bore Ignis’ weight for him and eased him down into the bed, trying to ignore the look of fatigue and pain on his partner’s young face. He swung his legs up gently and tucked them under the duvet while Ignis lay back into the pillow.

When he had caught his breath, he sighed. “Thank you, Gladio.”

“That’s what a partner’s here for, Iggy,” Gladio smiled. The effect his words had on Ignis wasn’t at all what he’d been going for.

Suddenly, the look of bashful gratefulness was washed from his expression, and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. It was so unlike Ignis to show so much emotion that Gladio frowned and rushed to sit down at his side, parking his nearly-naked body right next to him, overcome with the desire to reassure and protect him, he cradled Ignis’ cheek in his huge hand. “Hey…” he murmured.

Ignis blinked up at him, his green eyes sparkling. His lower lip twitched and he sagged into the pillows.

“Come on,” Gladio murmured, reaching down for Ignis’ bare shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

“Gladio,” Ignis said, his deep voice gravelly and full of emotion for once. “Your words just now: ‘ _That’s what a partner’s here for_ ’… They just served to remind me how awful I’ve been to you. I’m so sorry. I…” He sniffed miserably but he didn’t cry. “I’m always snapping at you, barking orders and demands like a terrier. I’m sorry. It’s no way to treat the man you love.”

Gladio’s handsome face split into a big, besotted grin and he dipped low to kiss Ignis on the forehead. He braced his hand on the headboard behind Ignis’ head to steady himself, and said, “You do plenty for me, Iggy.” He left another kiss on his cheek. “You really do.”

Ignis gave a harsh snort through his nose and nuzzled once against the hard muscles of Gladio’s tattooed forearms. Gladio loved how Ignis had come to admire his ink in the year that the big shield had been sporting the great, feathered eagle design, despite Ignis’ previous reservations about tattoos. Then Ignis closed his eyes, unable to bear Gladio’s gaze any more. With Gladio fencing him in, and not being able to turn over particularly easily, it was the quickest way to escape his soulmate’s scrutiny.

Gladio sighed and stood suddenly, his towel falling to the floor. He knew it would annoy the fastidiously tidy Ignis when he found it in the morning, but right at that moment he didn’t care. He needed him close.

He paced around to the right side of the bed and slid, naked, between the cool sheets, carefully sliding his arm beneath Ignis’ neck while he pulled his own body close into Ignis’ side, hand reaching over his torso to land on the far side of his pelvis. He knew Ignis couldn’t really feel much there, but it gave him the leverage he needed to mould himself around the slender form of this beautiful man. “I love you,” he whispered, nuzzling into the side of Ignis’ neck, first tracing circles with the tip of his nose and then brushing soft kisses there, before finally nipping and sucking gently at his pulse.

Ignis, still lying on his back, unravelled instantly in a way that he normally never did. He let out a throaty exhalation, tossing his head back so that his chin jutted to the ceiling, his chest expanding. “Gladio,” he murmured. A fresh wave of those beautiful sighs rolled off him and Gladio felt his own body reacting. He grew hard, but was glad that Ignis would probably not feel it. Now was not the time for that. Just in case, he kept his now aching cock from touching Ignis’ skin.

Again, he noted the unusually deep richness to Ignis’ voice, and his eyes screwed shut as he inhaled the warm, musky smell of Ignis’ skin.  He opened his eyelids once more and fixed his amber eyes on a well-loved and much-kissed freckle on Ignis’ shoulder and drew in a deep, luxurious breath, savouring the taste of his partner on his tongue. 

“What is it?” Ignis asked, and Gladio looked up to find a pair of bright green eyes looking straight into his own.

The effect stunned him for an instant, but he found his voice and asked, “I can almost taste you coming undone in my arms,” he chuckled.

Ignis chuckled and rolled his head back to look at the ceiling again. “Makes a change from tasting your come on me I suppose,” he said dryly.

Gladio’s fingers clenched and he tugged Ignis even closer to him.

“Turn me over onto my side,” Ignis said. It was almost a question, but not quite.

Gladio was used to helping him move when they had sex, when Ignis’ filters had been lovingly peeled away and he was perfectly happy to let his lover do whatever he wanted to him, but that only happened when Gladio had gently and slowly gone to work on him. It was so out of character for him to request for Gladio to start manhandling him that Gladio gave him a quizzical frown.

Ignis only laughed in response, the sound a rare and beautiful treat, like a desert flower after a rainstorm.

Gladio took hold of Ignis’ hips in both his hands and said, “Ready?”

Ignis braced with his right arm and reached across his torso with his left while Gladio rotated Ignis’ hips away from him by ninety degrees. His legs tangled a bit in the duvet and Gladio ran his palms down Ignis’ slim thighs to lift the left leg and place it gently back down so that he wasn’t crooked. The instant Ignis was comfortable, Gladio curled his huge body around him like a cocoon and pressed his chest tight against Ignis’ back, groaning when his hard cock hit the curve of Ignis’ cheeks.

Unable to resist the quiet warmth of Ignis’ body, Gladio started to nuzzle his neck again and smiled as Ignis moaned. In response, Ignis reached down behind him and gave a throaty chuckle when he found quite how hard Gladio was.

Gladio couldn’t help the small grunt he gave as Ignis’ fingers stroked his length once. “Don’t worry about that,” Gladio smiled. “Not tonight. You need to sleep.”

“I’d like to see you come though,” he admitted.

“You should sleep,” Gladio insisted.

“If I could buck my hips against you right now, I would,” he grinned.

Gladio smirked. “You’re enough as you are.”

“Apparently so. But regardless, I would.”

In punishment, Gladio nipped at Ignis’ ear, knowing it was particularly sensitive, and the man actually whined.

“No one is sleeping now,” Ignis grumbled. It was good-natured enough though.

“You want me to…?” Gladio asked tentatively. He knew Ignis was exhausted.

Ignis nodded. “You’ve got your lover all wound up too now. All this taking care of me, you’ve quite undone me, I'm afraid.”

Gladio smacked him playfully on the arse with the flat of his hand, and Ignis enjoyed the sound of it more than the sensation. “You make me so hard, Iggy,” he growled. “I wish you could feel it against you.”

Ignis nodded. “I can’t _quite_ feel you, and I may not get fully hard any more without help, but I’m not oblivious to _all_ sensation down there.” He turned his head as far as he could and smirked, “As you well know, Gladiolus Amicitia.”

Gladio’s only response was a feral, deep growl. His fingers began to play along the inside of Ignis’ thighs and as he pushed his finger against his lover’s tight hole he felt the reactionary spasm run all the way down Ignis’ lower body like lightning. While he knew Ignis couldn’t feel much, he knew just where to touch him so that he did at least feel something, and he reached behind him into the drawer for some lube.

As he slid a second finger inside Ignis’ now slick entrance, he felt a second wave of pleasure run through him. Ignis began to moan again. The sound of it went right through Gladio and he felt his chest burn searing hot against the cooler skin of Ignis’ back.

Sensation might be muted, but it wasn’t entirely absent. “Fuck me, Gladio,” he said. “I need it. I need you.” His words were slurred with lust and he reached his arm back again and closed his elegant, strong fingers around Gladio’s cock, slippery with lube and the pre-come that was already leaking from his tip.

At the sensation, a fresh wave of desire rippled through them both, and Gladio pounced. He rolled Ignis onto his back again, straddled the slender man, and ran his hands first over his shoulders and collarbones, then carded his fingers up through Ignis’ hair. He began to tug lightly on it as he lowered his torso down to press into Ignis’ chest. The onslaught of stimulus in those more sensitive areas made Ignis begin to shake and shudder, his eyes rolling closed and his soft lips parting. The weight of Gladio’s chest crushed gently into him and Ignis gave another long series of moans.

Soon he was unable to keep his slender hands off the bigger man who then hovered above him in a perfect, iron-steady plank, resting on his elbows as he pulled hard at Ignis’ hair and lowered his face to his collarbones again. Their cocks touched and Gladio gave a growl of fierce pleasure, grinding his hips repeatedly into Ignis, savouring the friction.

Ignis worked his palms all over every accessible bit of  Gladio, then began raking his short nails over the hard muscles and tanned, inked skin, sparking small star-bursts in Gladio’s brain, and Gladio knew he wasn’t far away now. “I want…” Ignis panted, unable to finish articulating his desire.

“Impatient tonight, aren’t we?”

“Please…” Ignis whined. “You’ve worked me into such a state…” It was so unusual to see the calm, composed, stoic advisor in such a mess, and Gladio marvelled at the privilege. “I want to see you come.”

And if he were honest, Gladio wasn’t sure he could wait much longer. The argument had triggered a need in him that was close to feral, and he wanted to cover Ignis’ neck in bites and hiccies so that all the world knew he was there to look after Ignis. The thought of it drove him into a wild state of heightened sensation and desire, and he slid off Ignis’ fragile hips and lifted his partner’s legs up, holding them in place, bent at the knee, as Ignis couldn’t do it himself. “So beautiful,” he murmured as he dipped his tongue inside Ignis and then began to kiss along his soft thighs. “So beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” Ignis slurred. “I’m yours.”

As Gladio indulged himself, Ignis lay there panting, fingers twisting the sheets into swirls. When Gladio dipped his tongue inside, tracing circles around the impossibly tight ring of muscle, Ignis gave a harsh cry of pleasure and his right thigh began to spasm a little. Gladio had caught a rare spot with feeling, and he lavished attention on it. Ignis’ leg tried to straighten on its own, and Gladio was forced to pull up with a smile on his lips.

“Please, Gladio…” Ignis moaned, gazing blearily down at him. “I want you to come. I want you to come in me.”

Gladio’s cock was throbbing with anticipation, and he said, “But I haven’t prepared you,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you. Be patient a little longer.”

The delicious groan of complaint that erupted from Ignis’ lips did a lot to hurry Gladio along, and in time he slid his cock into the heat of Ignis’ entrance. The spasming ring of muscle clenched around him and he gave a loud cry himself. “Fuck, Iggy, you’re tight,” he grunted, easing his thick length in gently. He had taken his time preparing him with his fingers, but still, Ignis had always been clenched tighter than a nun’s pussy.

“I want to flip you over onto your front,” he said after a while. “Can I?”

“You’ll have to hold me,” Ignis cautioned, “I can’t stay on my knees very well…”

“You’re perfect,” Gladio blurted and Ignis laughed again.

He withdrew, eliciting a groan from both of them, and helped Ignis roll over before he yanked his hips upright so that his knees had no choice but to bend beneath him. When he was unsteadily propped up on his unresponsive knees, Ignis braced his arms against the headboard and did his best to hold himself steady while Gladio slipped his tip back inside him, hands clamped around his hips to hold him steady.

Gladio let out another loud cry as he sheathed himself in Ignis’ slick heat.

The rhythm got harder and faster, and he leaned forward, his teeth nipping at Ignis’ neck and shoulders until Ignis was quivering and hardly able to hold himself steady. Gladio reached one hand down and began to pump Ignis, even though, without help from a pill of a certain colour, he wasn’t fully hard. He was as aroused as Gladio but with the spinal injury, it just wasn’t there. It didn’t matter to Gladio though. He loved him for who and what he was, not for whether he could come on his own or not. He knew how to get Ignis to reach a peak though, and he leaned right forward and whispered in his ear, “May I bite you?”

Ignis shivered with pleasure and nodded.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Take me,” Ignis said, his tongue fumbling the words in the fog of his lust.

“No, that’s not it. Say it.”

“Mark me, Gladio,” he said, his voice pleading as his last defences crumbled in the face of his love for Gladio. “Mark me, bite me, _claim me_ …” he whimpered. “ _Please_. Mark me like you did that first time, when I had to wear high collared shirts for a week…”

The memory of the first time Gladio had come inside Ignis surged through Gladio’s mind with the force of a freight train and he felt his hips take on a renewed vigour. “Oh, Iggy, you’ve gone and done it now,” he growled in his deepest voice. “Brace yourself hard.”

Gladio’s breathing reached a fever pitch and a delirious sweat broke out over his back and chest as his orgasm built. He fitted inside Ignis like he’d been made for him. His hips thrashed into Ignis and the prince’s advisor had to work hard to keep himself on his knees, his strong shoulders and perfect arms straining against the headboard. As Gladio felt his orgasm coiling in his groin, he leaned forward, his teeth bared, and he pressed his lips over the muscle of Ignis’ lean neck. “Ready?”

As Gladio began to growl, a deep, passionate, feral sound in his chest and throat, and Ignis hissed, “Do it.”

As the white heat surged and Gladio went blank as his orgasm slammed into him, he gave a loud shouting bellow and sank his teeth into Ignis’ muscle and he sucked hard as he emptied himself into Ignis. Ignis cried out as well, and lost his grip on the bed and they fell sideways, rolling into the centre of the bed, locked together as Gladio, still twitching, stayed latched onto him.

His huge arms clutched at Ignis and he knew that there was nothing else in the world he would ever need if he had Ignis with him.

When Gladio pulled back and saw the fresh bruise blossoming like a ripe plum on Ignis’ neck, he licked it and kissed it softly. “Sorry about that,” he murmured. “Looks like it’ll be high collared shirts for another week.”

Ignis’ little laugh, the laugh he only gave to Gladio and no one else, made the big shield’s breath hitch.

Breathing hard, sweat rolling down his forehead, Gladio ran his tongue and teeth gently over the skin of Ignis’ shoulder and kissed him. “You’re everything” he rasped, his voice no more than a harsh whisper.

“Yours,” Ignis breathed. “As I am, everything I am… It’s all yours.”

In response, Gladio tightened his grip on his soulmate and clutched him to his chest. They knew that in the morning they’d regret not cleaning up, but in the thick fog of lust and desire, not even Ignis could find it within himself to give a single flying fuck about anything other than the man beside him.


End file.
